Which was why I answered her with nothing but the truth. “It’s a fresh start.”

“Exactly what you need.” Keys clicked in the background. “I just emailed you some Pinterest links. Make it your own, Mac. Honestly. Unless it’s family photos or a million-dollar lotto ticket, donate everything. Throw it out. Paint. Redecorate. Do whatever. It’s yours for as long as you want it.”

Since Alice had already explained that her mom had been mortal enemies with dear Aunt Edna for their entire adult lives, I didn’t bother to tell her I’d already found some photos with her mom’s face cut out.

Or worse.

I blamed the dust. Or maybe the hormones. Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” There was a hint of her own emotion in her voice before she cleared her throat. “Did you get everything moved in okay?”

There hadn’t been much, but like the house, it was all I needed. “Yes, thank you.” I blinked back another set of unexpected tears. I swiped my face. “Everything is set, including the Wi-Fi.”

That is so slow, it’s run by a hamster in a wheel, but whatever.

“You feel ready for Monday?” Alice asked. “You can take more—”

“No. Monday is perfect. I need normalcy.” I scanned my surroundings again. “Well, as close to normalcy as I can get.”

Since it was only Saturday, that gave me the rest of the weekend to clean and set up my spot.

Preferably without any of the plastic couches or ugly knickknacks nearby. Not only did I not want to see them all day, but I also didn’t want a bunch of high schoolers to.

The roasts would be brutal, and there wasn’t enough aloe in the world for those kinds of burns.

“If you’re sure,” Alice said, offering another out before moving on. “I really think you’re onto something with this idea. I’m excited.”

“I am, too. I—”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Rattle.

My heart squeezed inside my tight chest as I strained to listen.

“Mac, you there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Not wanting to freak Alice out but also not wanting to brush off the mystery noise, I kept talking as I moved away from the back windows and toward the front of the house. “I think this will work well. Maybe even better than the status quo.”

“I think so, too. It’ll be good to shake things up.”

Hopefully.

“I need to go fix lunch,” I told her, though I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I stopped at the living room window and braced, expecting to see someone on the porch. Like a mail carrier. Or the Boogeyman.

Or maybe even a handsome wall of tattooed muscle.

I peeked out the floral and teddy bear curtain—Aunt Edna had a theme, however bizarre—but there was no one.